I AM A LOSER BECAUSE I HAVE SO MUCH TO LOSE. I know that it won’t always be like this, but I feel indebted to those that have taken me this far. I’m afraid I won’t have what it takes to even be okay let alone repay the support I have received up until now.
Maybe it’s because I’ve never been myself. I’ve been built on the support of others, and once that’s taken away, I won’t really know who I am. I’ve disrespected my boundaries countless times because I wanted to be okay, and now I’m here – and now I want to be my own person.
My friend Chelsie once gave me this advice: that so long as you’re doing what you want and making it work, that nobody can take that away from you. It doesn’t matter what other people think as long as you know you’re being yourself. So, act shameless, and pursue what you really want.
I’ve taken that advice to heart, but I’m still here.
I’m doing things I don’t want to do, so that eventually I can do what I want to.
This can’t be all there is to life. I know that.
I was going to live with my friends India, Dylan, and Colton, until a few weeks ago, where I learned that it wasn’t going to happen (A/N: About a month ago now). I was broken up about it for a while. I still am, but I’m getting better.
At this point, there’s nothing I can do to change what’s already been done, or rather, all that I haven’t done. There’s things I should have done, but it was already too late before the turn of the decade. Too little, too late. This is something I couldn’t have avoided, and I hate that, and I hate “could” and I hate “couldn’t” and I hate “should” and I hate “shouldn’t” and I hate “would” and I hate “wouldn’t” and I hate all of those fucking words.
I don’t like who I’ve been these last few months.
All I’ve been trying to do is survive and I still feel chastised at every turn. I feel like everything I’m doing is wrong. I haven’t earned anything. I want to be okay and I want the people that have helped me so far to be happy and proud of me. I can’t even enjoy baby steps anymore, the small successes are zilch to the goals I haven’t yet achieved.
My family must have little trust in me, and I couldn’t blame them. I don’t think very many of my friends trust me, either, and that’s fine – I’ve put too much trust into them for too long. If I can’t be okay for myself, I could never be okay for them.
I expect too much from myself, and from others.
India’s nickname for me was Jare-Bear. I noticed that she names a lot of her friends after animals, and I think that’s funny. Eventually, that nickname turned into Bear-Bear, and eventually that nickname turned into Bare-Bare.
I think I like it the most. It describes me where I’m at now: Bare-Bare. Simple, plain, unadorned, unembellished, and just enough to get by.
As another friend of mine once described himself, “Homely as sin and sick of pride”.
Of course, all of this is predicated on angst – as I’m sure is apparent by now.
Also, as I’m sure you’ve pieced together by this point, dear reader, I didn’t draft all of this writing in one sitting. What you’ve been reading up until this point has been rambling, musing, and contemplating over the course of some several weeks, beginning on Valentine’s Day(?) and continued until now: March 16th, 2020. 11:08 PM. This moment dies now, forever lost to the annals of history, but I will remember it.
I am listening to Bloody Mary, by Chihei Hatakeyama. The song is at 2:40.
It is 11:09 PM now.
Everything has changed from when I started to write this. To tell you the truth, I didn’t have any idea where I wanted this to begin or end. I wanted to say something. I felt waterlogged, sunken, drowned in all of life’s responsibilities, and suffocated.
All at once – on the precipice of the rest of my life, I could feel the future creeping in.
The future is now.
It’s been a month since I started this. Things have changed.
It’s 11:11 PM now. Make a wish.
It’s 11:12 PM. Too late.
I got an email today letting me know that one of my jobs is closing for several weeks, at least until April. I’m out of work until then. No word from my other job yet, but I am already anticipating that we’ll get that email tomorrow (A/N: We got that email).
To tell you the truth, I’m relieved.
The world had been collapsing around me for the worse half of February. March is a reprise insofar that it’s not solely my own world anymore. It’s everyone’s.
The irony is not lost on me. I spent months looking for a job somewhere, sending out resumes constantly, every day, everywhere, only to receive some halfhearted interview requests to fill out a queue every now and again, because I WANTED SOMETHING GOOD. I ruled out dishwashing early on specifically because I hated it so much. I’ve been a dishwasher before. Countless times. It’s the one job I specifically swore I would never do again.
And when I had no other options left? I did it again.
And when I finally got two jobs? It was already too late.
And when I finally started to settle into my new normal? The world stopped dead in its tracks.
It’s hard to deny that maybe the powers-that-be have simply conspired against me. It’s one thing to experience a string of bad luck, and it’s another thing entirely to reflect on how dearly the universe twists its circumstances to inconvenience us specifically.
We plan, God laughs.
To tell you the truth, I’m relieved.
The game was rigged from the start. I never stood a chance, really.
I couldn’t have predicted this. Nobody could have. Yet, here we are. Living our incongruous lives in the midst of pandemic, in self-quarantine, isolating ourselves from the world outside.
Life doesn’t seem so different to me.
It will get worse before it gets better. If you don’t prepare for the worst, you will never understand why all of your plans fell through.
The worst is yet to come. We will not grow, nor will we recover, until the worst is over. This too shall pass.
The best is yet to come. There is good pain that motivates us to be better, that reminds us all of what we have to lose; and there is bad pain, that does not contribute to our wellbeing at all. The bad pain is only there to remind us that hurt will not always help. The purpose of bad pain, then, is to let go of it.
After all, what is now compared to the rest of our lives? Now does not last long, and does not last forever.
I feel oddly at peace.
Even though the last month has felt like a series of doors slamming shut in front of me, I feel as though the path ahead is easier to navigate now. It is dark, and we will navigate the dark, together.
Either I will, or I won’t. Neither outcome is that scary.
I want to be here, because I want to try harder; and I can always give up, and I will be okay, but some people don’t have that luxury. I owe it to them, and to myself, to try harder.
I will suffer and I will hurt and that is okay because if that’s what it takes to make home for myself, then I will endure. This is where I want to be.
Everyone is struggling right now, and it’s worse than it has been before. This isn’t confined to a group of friends, or some family members, no, this is EVERYONE, all at once, all experiencing alienation and sudden, shocking upheaval from their day-to-day existence. I wouldn’t wish this kind of situation upon anyone – and now everyone is experiencing it.
My plight has been peanuts compared to what we’re dealing with now, and I was crying over not knowing where the next month or so would take me! Now, I don’t even know what tomorrow looks like.
Everything could change in the blink of an eye.
As Dylan put it, “All we can do is wait for whatever fresh hell comes tomorrow”.
Fresh hell is a good way of putting it.
JD-Jurado © all rights reserved 2020